“I know what you are. I've always known from the beginning, Kushiel's Chosen. It is folly, to make claim on one whom the gods have marked for their own. And unlike the others, I am no fool, to grasp at that which burns to the touch. What you have given..." she raised one hand, palm upward, the garnet seal dangling at her wrist, "... I hold in an open hand.”

“ I didn’t know you were going. What are you coming for?" she said, letting fall the hand with which she had grasped the doorpost. And irrepressible delight and eagerness shone in her face.  "What am I coming for?" he repeated, looking straight into her eyes. "You know that I have come to be where you are," he said, "I can’t help it.”

“Dear God,I am so afraid to open my clenched fists!Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to?Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands?Please help me to gradually open my handsand to discover that I am not what I own,but what you want to give me.”

“I can't make those two realities -- what I've lost and what I've found -- fit together in some tidy pattern of divine causality. I just have to hold them on the one hand and on the other, just like that.”

“Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love.”

“He grabbed her around the waist and put her in the center of the bed, then stood and admired her.“I love you so much, I think there are burn marks on my heart.” Blake touched his chest.“Do they hurt?” Livia wondered aloud with a wink.“Only when I’m not holding you.” Blake trailed his fingertips from her ankle to the top of her thigh.“Hold me always then. I’m yours.” Livia batted her lashes playfully until one of his hands gripped her gently bound wrists, and the other abandoned her leg to trace her jaw.Blake kissed her lips until she finally fidgeted with anticipation.”